


Time (Or Its Mimics)

by forest_roses



Series: desert winds [3]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: -Ish, Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Tattoos, also I said i'd stop writing second person pov, and so does carlos, and this is the result, eventually, i got emotional watching the condos livestream, i lied apparently, it's short but i will write more fics that are longer, look i just really like the idea of cecil's markings/tattoos being somewhat alive, sorry but it's addictive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:21:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forest_roses/pseuds/forest_roses
Summary: Lying on your side next to him, you smile and watch the metallic lines and symbols on his shoulders trail toward you and twist happily, forming new shapes.The first time you saw them fully, you were speechless for a moment. Eventually, you asked if you could touch them, and when he said yes, you touched your fingertips to a small set of lines on his shoulder. They hummed with energy, and that soft purple light coming off them grew brighter when you smiled.Or: I got emotional after the Condos livestream, and I wrote this.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Series: desert winds [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786606
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Time (Or Its Mimics)

**Author's Note:**

> I can't write the word "smile" in a Night Vale fic without feeling the need to explicitly state that it's not a Desert Bluffs smile. This is me stating that.
> 
> Also, I promise I have longer fics with different POVs coming up soon. I've been struggling with writing recently due to mental health issues, and today I just wanted to do something smaller.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It’s dark in the room; all the lights are off, and the two of you are lying on the bed, on top of the blanket Old Woman Josie knitted you. It’s not cold right now. In the midsummer, the heat doesn’t leave the sun-baked ground quickly at night, and you and Cecil are taking advantage of this. Lying on your side next to him, you smile and watch the metallic lines and symbols on his shoulders trail toward you and twist happily, forming new shapes.

The first time you saw them fully, you were speechless for a moment. You’d seen them poking out of the collar and arms of his shirts before (and several times, you got distracted in the middle of a date when they moved or glowed at something you said. Cecil thought it was cute, and his tattoos glowed a little more brightly as the conversation continued.) You wanted to ask about them, but never had the courage until that first time you saw the full extent of the markings. It hadn’t occurred to you then that he might be self-conscious about them, but when he said, a little shakily, that he could put his shirt back on if you wanted, you were quick to reassure him. You thought they were beautiful, and you told him so. He kissed you again after you said that.

When he pulled back, he kept his head close to yours, and let you watch the shapes move for a little while. Eventually, you asked if you could touch them, and when he said yes, you touched your fingertips to a small set of lines on his shoulder. They hummed with energy, and that soft purple light coming off them grew brighter when you smiled.

You spent a while that night just watching the tattoos move and glow around him, and he told you in a happy and slightly nervous voice that he’d had them for as long as he could remember. They grew with him, he said, and were alive as much as the rest of him, responding to his emotions and sometimes to those of others. You are reminded of that moment now, lying by him on the soft blanket, brushing your fingers over his sides and breathing in the warm desert air coming in through the window. You remember that feeling of discovery and wonder filling up your chest, your love for him growing with every word he said, and you feel it again now, as you lay your head against his shoulder and let his voice lull you to sleep. It is a warm, safe feeling; one you know he echoes. It is a feeling stronger than either of you, and for as long as time or its mimics exist, you know you will never stop feeling like this about him.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
